Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
If it’s the latter, it’s working.
When I park Louisa’s car, I send a silent prayer that she doesn’t crash my car on her way in, and then I notice Coach McCoy and Mr. Davenport are waiting for me. Once I’m out of the car, Davenport is kissing my ass. Riggs just nods and agrees with a pleasant smile on his face that says he won’t kiss my ass, but he is glad I am here.
He’s my hero.
When it’s just him and me—thankfully, Davenport got pulled away—Coach sighs deeply. “How ya feeling?” he asks with a voice tinged a bit with his Scottish brogue.
“Aye, right as rain, ya know,” I say since I never pass up a chance to tease him.
Coach’s brushy brows pull together as he glares, and I’m almost worried he’s gonna kick my ass.
But he needs me in goal.
“I almost missed your little shit ass, but then I remembered how annoying you are.” I grin at him as he clasps my shoulder. “You aren’t beating yourself up, are you?”
“I am,” I answer honestly, and he rolls his eyes in a dramatic fashion.
“Don’t. This shows how strong you are mentally, and how you can play for anyone. I was the one to push for you to come back, because I feel you’ll help us get the Cup.”
Pride warms my chest. Unlike Coach Moore, Coach McCoy is more like a big brother than a father figure. He’s a good dude, not much older than my eldest brother, and while I tease him all the damn time, I do like him a lot. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Yeah, so stop making fun of my accent.”
“Absolutely not.”
“’Kay, amigo,” he says with an awful Spanish flair.
So bad, I can’t even be offended. I can only laugh.
He flashes me an all-teeth grin before smacking my back. “Go get changed. Your gear is set up in your locker, and the media department wants some shots.” He points to the kid who has been following us and taking photos and video. He can’t be a day out of high school, but he looks eager as fuck. Who is this kid, and where the hell is the person I wanna see?
Why is he doing her job?
I bring in my brows, hooking my thumb toward the kid. “Who’s he?”
“Bradley, the social media intern.”
Intern, but where is she? I know good and well she wouldn’t let some kid do her job. This is her bread and butter; she is all about angles and the right footage. Does this kid know how to do that?
“Looking for your lass?”
I snort, side-eyeing Coach. I almost forgot he was the one to walk in on us.
In the broom closet.
I glance down the hall, where I know if I turn left at the second branch, the closet will be accessible on the left. A smirk moves across my lips before I run my hand down my face, unable to turn off that moment that is playing like a movie in my head.
Nine months ago…
I watch as Elliot comes out of the locker room, so engrossed in her phone that she doesn’t see me or know I’m watching her. She has been driving me wild all day. A skintight sweaterdress hugs every bit of her body, her hair is in a high, sleek ponytail, and her lips are a dark maroon to match her dress. Her eyes are all-knowing, quick and lethal, just like that sensual mouth of hers.
She’s stunning.
I lick my lips, excited to get just a taste. That’s all I want. She won’t be staying in the hotel with us for this road trip, so I have to get a taste. She’ll be staying with her grandfather in another hotel, closer to his “favorite eating spots.” I think he’s catching on that she’s shacking up with a player, not that either of us has given anyone any idea. And I won’t since she’s being all skittish about people knowing. She drives me damn crazy, but I love it. I love the secrecy; I love knowing she’s only mine. Fuck if I don’t want to taste every single inch of her body before I have to go a few days without it.
It’s only been a couple weeks, but I’m catching feelings hard for a social media manager who doesn’t want to be caught.
But I’m about to do just that.
When she’s within reach, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into the closet, shutting the door to contain her squeal of fear. She tries to get away from me, but I hold her tight, my lips coming to her ear. “Shh, mami. It’s me.”
She instantly relaxes in my arms, her chest rising and falling hard in my grip. “You scared the shit out of me!” she complains, smacking my arm.
I chuckle against her ear. “Ah, did I? I’m sorry.”